Must Be Love
by opalish
Summary: HGSS. A quirk of Snape's lips, an arch of his eyebrows, a tilt of Hermione's head... They were holding their own conversation the whole meeting through, without saying a word. Harry's POV.


Disclaimer: HP isn't mine. I own nothing. Nothing!

Inspired by M'cha Araem's HermioneSnape fic, A Grand, Dramatic Gesture. If I hadn't read that, I would never have gotten the inspiration to write a HGSS fic.

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I wasn't expecting it. I'll admit that much- I never saw it coming. I suppose I expected Hermione and Ron to settle down and raise a dozen hell-raising bushy-red-haired brainiacs. I didn't expect Ron to go falling head over heels for Hannah Abbott, and I definitely didn't expect Hermione Granger, muggleborn witch, to end up with the bastardly (er, sorry, I meant dastardly. Really, I did) Severus Snape.

It's just...gross.

I said as much, and Hermione's never given me a look like that before or since. I'm pretty sure she was channeling that basilisk from second year, and I feel pretty damned lucky I'm still alive and unpetrified.

"Severus is not _gross_, Harry James Potter," she snarled, brown eyes flashing.

"Greasy hair," Ron squeaked, then shrank back into the common room sofa when Hermione's glare was turned on him. For a seventeen year old girl, Hermione can glare like a champion. She'll make a great mother someday, let me tell you that.

Urgh. Mini-Snapes.

"It comes of working with potions all day, you imbecile," she snapped.

"Oh, Merlin," Ron whispered, horrified. "Harry, mate, she's starting to sound like him!"

Hermione wouldn't talk to us for the rest of the day, and even then she made Ron actually beg her for forgiveness. She's bloody scary, let me tell you that. No wonder she and Snape get along so well.

Now, I have to say I was more than a bit worried about Hermione's mental health. I mean, Snape's always mocked her and while she's always defended him, I never really got the feeling that she much liked him as a person. So yeah, I did suspect foul play of some sort.

So I watched the two carefully at the Order meeting that night, and I came up with a few startling conclusions.

Snape respected Hermione. He listened to what she had to say, and while most of the time he mocked her words and scathingly denounced her plans, I could tell his heart wasn't really in it.

My second conclusion? That Snape was actually trying not to be a bastard to me and Ron. He still was, of course, but I saw him bite back a few comments here and there.

And then I saw the looks they gave each other when they thought no one else was watching- quick glances, mostly unreadable to me but clearly meaningful to them. A quirk of Snape's lips, an arch of his eyebrows, a tilt of Hermione's head... They were holding their own conversation the whole meeting through, without saying a word.

Well, there was only one explanation.

It had to be love.

I've grown up a bit over the past couple of years, so I've come to expect a bit of maturity from myself, but even so I'm proud of what I did next.

That night, while my roommates were fast asleep, I wrapped myself up in my invisibility cloak, grabbed the Marauder's Map, and made my way to Snape's private rooms. He was alone, which worked well for what I wanted to do.

I knocked on the frame of the portrait guarding his chambers. The painting- of Herpo the Foul- snarled at me.

A few moments passed, and then the portrait swung outwards, nearly knocking me off my feet. Severus Snape stood in the opening, glaring around at the empty hall.

Summoning all of my courage, I took my cloak off.

Let me just say, the shock on his face was worth the thirty points he promptly took from Gryffindor.

"Wait," I said before he could slam the portrait shut in my face. "I need to talk with you. It's about...well, Hermione told me about, ah, you know..." I trailed off, blushing.

Snape stared at me unreadably, before remarking, "Eloquent as always, Mister Potter. Come in, then, if you must."

His sitting room was done in dark green and mahogany, and was austere and somewhat harsh. A small fire crackled in the hearth, and I saw a pile of parchments- probably essays he'd been grading- on the coffee table. The walls were lined with bookshelves full of arcane tomes.

"It all becomes clear," I muttered, amused.

"What was that, Potter?" Snape demanded, still standing near the doorway- or was it a portraitway? His arms were crossed over his chest, and he looked as if he were inwardly debating the merits of homicide.

"Nothing," I said with all the innocence I could muster, grateful that Ginny had given me those ever-helpful Lying Lessons the year before. I swear, that girl should have been a Slytherin.

"What do you want?" Snape growled, quickly losing patience.

Ah. Time to be serious. Damn.

I took a deep breath, then said what I'd come to say. "I'm calling a truce."

Snape stared at me blankly. "Pardon?"

"A truce," I repeated determinedly. "Hermione's dating you, right?"

Snape grimaced at the term 'dating', but nodded fractionally.

"And she's one of my best friends," I continued. "In fact, she's probably the only person who's always been there for me, no matter what. If we keep being petty and nasty to each other, she's the one who'll be hurt, and I care for her too much to do that to her."

Snape's eyes narrowed to slits and his nostrils flared.

"Not like that!" I protested, before he could attack me in a jealous rage. "I love her as a friend and the closest thing I'll ever have for a sister, not like, well, a girlfriend. I mean, just imagine the kids- my messy hair, her bushy hair...they'd look like bloody clowns."

"How often have I told you not to go off on tangents, Mister Potter?" Snape drawled, and years of snide comments scrawled all over my essays flashed before my eyes.

"Often enough," I grudgingly allowed, stubbornly refusing to give this up. I wasn't about to let Snape get to me, not when so much was at stake. "Look, you don't like me and I don't like you, but that isn't what matters, is it? What's more important- your stupid revenge against my father, or Hermione?"

Oh, wow. Snape dumbfounded- I could sell tickets.

"That's about all I wanted to say," I finished. "Don't tell Hermione I was here; she'll just get angry that I went behind her back. Women..." I shrugged my cloak back on and headed for the door, wanting to get away before Snape could realize I'd called him stupid and kill me.

I slipped around him, shouldered the portrait open, and scrambled out. Oh, I was gonna get it in Potions the next day.

Or at least I thought I would.

But no, Snape was actually...civil. He even gave me points for getting a potion right, though he took double that amount from Ron at lunchtime.

So. The truce was on.

People looked at us oddly all day. No insults? Snape giving me points? Me being polite?

Hermione was smiling as if Christmas had come early, and when I saw the look Snape gave her at dinner...

Yeah. Must be love. Because with that one look, I knew without a doubt that he'd chosen her over his hatred of my father, and that seeing her smile made everything worth it.

And I thought, maybe Snape isn't so bad after all.

Of course, he could still use a shower.


End file.
